


The Gun Show

by My_Black_Crimson_Rose6



Series: Of Sex, Ink, and Skateboards [8]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Bad Flirting, Flirting, In which their insurrectionist names are their nicknames, M/M, Misunderstandings, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 19:48:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4234368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Black_Crimson_Rose6/pseuds/My_Black_Crimson_Rose6
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What really happened when "Sleeveless" (or was it "Manly"?) flirted with a clueless Wash back in chapter two of "David Washington Will Ruin You (in all the best ways)".</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gun Show

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hawkheartedlion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawkheartedlion/gifts).



> I'm sorry, I felt like those two really (really really really) bad days really hurt my writing style (or I've felt like it has). I'm sorry about this, and I hope that you're a little gentle with me because of it.

He was always a man of opportunity, not one to turn down the possibility of being attracted to anyone—man, woman, non-binary individual, or anyone else for the matter. He was never one to pass by the opportunity that could come from a flirt, or a date.

Wash came in with Sharkface; the blond all smiles and freckles, with his sweater sleeves rolled up to elbows and... Fuck those _pants_ —that _ass_. He had that charm about him that he was oblivious to—a shame really, if Manly had that type of aura he’d fucking _flaunt_ it. But that might be _why_ he doesn’t have it.

Sharkface handed him a bottle of beer, popping the cap off with the bottle opener he carries around with his keys. That guy was always good for that—that and a light. “Who’s the blond with Sharky?” he jutted his chin out towards the blond that the man was leading towards Demo and their so-called _Leader_.

Sniper shrugged following Manly gaze towards their friend and his companion, “might be a friend of Felix’s. Y’know, the dude Sharkface has been sleeping with.” They’ve all heard about Felix—how he showed up at a party and the two of them left for a few hours, then roughly three days later all of Sharkface’s friends found out that not only _he was still alive_ but, he was also spending most of his nights over at this kid’s place. It was a confusing time for all involved, except for maybe Sharkface himself.

“Like, _friend_ friend, or just friend.”

The tall black man shrugged, “how should I know? I can’t keep track of _my own_ relationships, don’t have time to pick up relationship facts about some guy I don’t even know.” He took a swing from the cup he had clenched in hand, grimacing at the flavour, “ughh, fucking hell.”

Manly huffed knocking their shoulders together, “yeah yeah. Fuck off yea prick,” he pushed off the man, making a pass at the red solo cup, like he were to knock it from his hand only to grin and change directions midway through the action. “I’m going in,” he grinned to his tall companion, waggling his brows in the direction of blond, freckled and just _hips_. Mmm, he’d like to take a bite at those hip bones that he could only _image_ where hidden under those clothes.

The man waved him off, bidding him luck as he crept towards his _prey_ —left alone, watching the gathered friends with a pleased little grin expanding on his lips. Sharkface had left him unattended, wrapped up in a conversation with Girlie and the Chain duo.

His friends had the weirdest nicknames—Chain Guy and Chain Girl had been named after their characters in their favourite role-play games (the ones that they’d hear them cackling evilly about while machinegun fire threatened to drown it out). Girlie only allowed her friends to call her that name, all her life she’s been labeled with that title and with them she accepted it but that doesn’t mean that she needed to with everyone else.

Demo got the name because of his arm and the story of how he got it. Something about him blowing something up and ‘ _I did something stupid and shit happened’_ was along the lines of what he’d always say. Sniper was because of his talent with anything that revolved around a projectile object (beer pong? You get Sniper on your team or you leave drunk). Manly got his name because of his _guns_ —his fantastic arms that brought out the second nickname they had for him. Sleeveless, ‘cause if the sun’s out the guns are out! Sharkface’s name was a string of mounting occurrences that happened around the topic of sharks—he has a tattoo on his chest of a shark, he had a hoodie with a shark face on the hood and they found his collect of stuffed shark stuffed animals on his bed.

He grinned when the blond looked up, sitting back on the arm of the worn out couch—drawing little designs in the sweat dripping from the bottle. “Hey, the name’s Gale,” Manly grinned loosening his posture— _stay loose; calm, cool... collected_. “Friends call me Manly,” and it sounds ridiculous now that he says it out loud, can see the look that the blond is giving him—like he wants to both laugh and question the name choice.

“Washington,” he replied bringing the bottle to his grinning lips, taking a sip. “Though people have the option of shortening it to Wash. So either or,” he shrugged with that beautiful grin only growing more pronounced; dimples, he had dimples to go along with all the freckles painted over his skin. Manly shifted his weight, from one foot to the other and cocking his hip.

“So Wash,” he liked how it sounds, liked how easy it was to roll off his tongue, “how do you know Sharkface?” Wash’s brow creased in confusion, brows rising, “or Vergil, I guess. Forgot that maybe he won’t go introducing himself like that.”

It’s been a whole month since Sharkface had slept with Felix that first time, a whole month since

Washington nibbles the corner of his lip, pulling and releasing the skin before brushing a hand through his hair. “Felix, and the fact that he’s kinda moved into Locus and his apartment which I pretty much stay at as well.” He’d look at him through his lashes, tilt his head and drop his shoulder while he talked—his posture screamed _open_ , it screamed interested and friendly and _flirty_.

So Manly did what he always did; pulling up that sweet model worthy smile, and he quickly got to work. “So, Wash,” again like warmed honey rolling from his tongue and tasting _so very sweet_ in his mouth, “tell me about yourself. Any hobbies?” Get him talking about himself; it’s what tended to get people to relax.

The blond’s gray-blue eyes flicked up and to the left in though, unfocused on anything but his thoughts—he scrunched up his nose and his gaze flicked back to Manly’s face. “Nothing all that much since mid terms are coming up. I haven’t exactly been snowboarding enough to call it a hobby, but I skateboard. It’s... its kinda embarrassing now that I think about it. Don’t have anything really big or interesting to do until the snow melts.” Even his awkward laugh and matching smile was nice.

Manly waved him off, “Fuck that talk! Nothing wrong with being a little lame around exams. Eventually you won’t see an third or fourth year without a shot of caffeine in their hands—I get it.” Wash smiled, shifting in his seat until the heel of his foot hooked on the lip of the couch. “I’m not looking forward to it, I’ll say that much,” Manly chuckled taking a sip from own beverage.

“So what are you taking?”

And there it was, there was the hook catching. People would talk about themselves with qualm, they could go on at times if unchecked, but as soon as the circle the conversation back towards the other person it meant they were interested—meant that they _cared_ about what the other enough to ask.

Manly couldn’t help but feel giddy, his plan falling in its rightful place. “I’m a—” he stopped when an arm wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him in close to the interrupting party. He caught the glimpse of black silky hair, the tattoo wrapping around the man’s forearm; “Sharkface,” he frowned, glaring at the man still holding on.

Washington’s face lit up, lips spreading almost impossibly large to grin at the arrival of the new man. “Why didn’t you tell me your friends called you _Sharkface_ ,” he teased, brows waggling and only held that upwards positioning when the man released Manly from his hold.

“It never came up,” was the brunette’s reply. It was familiar, it was obviously so familiar of an action—of Sharkface closing the distance between the two and taking his face in hand, of pressing their lips together and falling into the kiss, of wrapping an arm around his shoulders and kissing back. Manly could only stare, could only stare and attempt to figure out where in the signs that he went wrong. Maybe he read his body posture wrong, maybe the blond didn’t think of this as flirting.

 _Shit_ , he thought when Sharkface pulled away from the kiss and fell into the couch beside the blond’s perch. “I thought you were with that Felix kid,” is what he settled on instead, he settled on it rather than bringing up Wash directly and Sharkface _knew that_. Knew that by the arch of his brow and the way he looked to Washington.

“My boyfriend and I are _with_ Felix when he met Vergil,” Wash blushed—he blushed with _everything_ , with his ears, and cheeks, with his neck as well. Manly would bet money that his chest was pinking up as well.

He glanced between them, gesturing back and forth with his beverage. “The four of you... like,” _together_. It was unsaid but they nodded—Wash with that flustered grin and Sharkface with a smug grin, deserving of his name by that grin alone. “Well _shit_ dude, I don’t know if I should be pissed that you’ve hitched yourself up in a foursome or in _awe_ that you’ve done it.”

A _foursome_ , a fucking _foursome—_ dude was living in a man’s wet dream right there. Has his pick of three different people—though in this case all of them were guys. Shit, Manly was jealous—wow. _He_ hasn’t even gotten to taste having two partners.

Sharkface just continued to grin, watching the progressing emotions flash over his friend’s face. “I hate you, you’re such an asshole—such a fucking _lucky_ asshole!” Manly snarled lunging at his friend and trapping him in a cage of legs, and of knees digging in painfully—they scrapped drinks spilling as they wrestled, falling from the couch and rolling in the spilled liquid.

“Jealousy doesn’t look good on you!” Sharkface chuckled wiggling out of the weak, pathetic headlock. “These guns are growing _soft_ , you sure they’re not just for show?” and oh, that was it. He could handle everything else—could take the knowledge that one was his best friends was in a four-way relationship without telling anyone, could take him swooping in and ruining his flirting, but he won’t take his beautiful arms being insulted—no way.

**Author's Note:**

> Has anyone noticed just how many guys are so "into" threesomes? Like that's all they want sometimes. Like, just the sex but nothing about the relationship part. ughhh. Sorry, this is just a weird end not trying to bring understanding as to why Manly is all like "you lucky bastard".


End file.
